Avoiding Cinnabon
by L. Emmist
Summary: An Andalite at the mall. What more do I need to say?


Author's Note - This character, Errowyn-Evesar-Armelis is part of another story. Yes, she's going to the mall. Yes, it's very similar to any old Ax- in-the-mall scene. So all you Andalite fans, enjoy it for what it is. In brief, it's an Andalite female who does not know about the Animorphs taking a trip to the mall. Read. Think. Review. Enjoy!  
  
(Author's Second Note - Thank you to those who have asked me to continue the story. However, I'm unable to oblige you because the story gets very complex and involves literally dozens of other characters, not all of whom are mine. Plus, you'd need background information that would take weeks or months to compile and longer to understand. Add to that the fact that there is no end to the story, and that Errowyn is a character who is constantly changing and will probably end up . oh, sorry. I can't talk about that yet. Anyway. The bottom line is, more won't be added to this story. Hope none of you are heartbroken. ::Grins:: Have fun!)  
  
Disclaimer - You know the drill. KA Applegate conceived the basic concepts for these stories, although the characters in this particular story are mine. Also, Cinnabon is not mine either. Okay? Okay. On with the show.  
  
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AVOIDING CINNABON  
  
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My name is Errowyn-Evesar-Armelis, and I have not spent much time studying human culture. It does not appear to be in any way complex, and I am certain I would have no trouble imitating Earth's odd, two-legged inhabitants. The main reason for this is that so many members of the species are odd themselves that they take absurdity for granted.  
  
A perfect case in point: the mall. This is a large human structure, dedicated to commerce. I was there for a particular type of commerce. Food.  
  
Humans have a wonderful sense called taste. By now, I'm sure you have heard about it.  
  
At Hugo's recommendation, I avoided Cinnabon. Not only was the taste sensation of its edible items uncontrollably overwhelming, but also, on occasion, some odd human male supposedly appeared and instigated riots over the menu there. I had decided to embark slowly on a journey of taste, going from the most tasteless items to the most powerful to my human mouth.  
  
"Excuse me," I said. "What is the most bland item of food available here?"  
  
The human female behind the counter looked at me. I have been told that my appearance in human morph is unusual - blue is not a standard hair color for humans. Or lip color, for that matter. Yet I had decided to preserve the exact appearance of the person I morphed, and so my human hair was dyed and my human lips were painted.  
  
Humans are odd creatures.  
  
"The French fries taste like cardboard," she offered, hesitantly.  
  
"Is cardboard bland?"  
  
"Yeah..." She gave me a look that indicated she found me to be a non- standard member of the species. I have learned to recognize that look.  
  
"I would like French fries," I said, and handed her some of the strange, green currency that humans pass around in exchange for useful items. Andalite commerce is not conducted in the same manner.  
  
She sorted through the money, rearranged it, and sorted it the other way. Then she opened her eyes very widely and stared at me. I have been told this is rude. "This is enough money to buy the mall," she gasped.  
  
I hadn't known what the relative values of the currency were, so when I had enhanced the human computer to print off authentic money, I had selected large quantities of each bill. "Oh," I said. "I wouldn't like to buy the mall. Merely one standard order of French fries."  
  
She passed the pieces of paper back with some reluctance. "That's two- seventy-five," she sighed.  
  
"Two hundred and seventy-five French fries?" I said. That sounded like a lot. French fries must be small, or human stomachs must be large.  
  
"Two dollars and seventy-five cents," she balked, and stared at me again.  
  
A line of humans was beginning to form behind me. "Just pay it, punk!" one of them shouted. The rest of the line murmured in agreement.  
  
Well, if humans merely explained things better ... I found three dollars in my purse, but I did not have any of these 'sents'. Unless she meant 'sense,' in which case her sentence did not have proper number agreement. It should be 'senses'. Human language is almost as confusing as their currency.  
  
"I do not have any cents," I said.  
  
"That's for sure," muttered someone in the line behind me.  
  
"I can make change," groaned the female behind the counter. Hugo groans frequently, and I have learned to recognize the sound.  
  
"So can I," I confided cryptically. She was not referring to morphing, I didn't think. Still, I savored the irony.  
  
"Give her three dollars, you weirdo!"  
  
I assumed they were talking to me. I gave her three dollars. She handed back a small, gray metal disc.  
  
"Is this a French fry?" I asked.  
  
"Freak." The person who said it groaned.  
  
"Don't come to the mall high," someone suggested.  
  
"How does one come to the mall low?" I inquired, trying to establish eye contact with that particular human.  
  
"Just take your fries and go!" yelled a line member.  
  
A carton of elongated yellow rectangles was shoved at me. I took it, and tottered out of the establishment on my unsteady human legs. Then I was struck by a sudden inspiration. I stopped a passing human.  
  
"What is this container made of?" I asked.  
  
"Cardboard. Duh."  
  
I really am a genius at figuring these things out. I ate the container first. Then I ate the French fries. One must take things in stages. 


End file.
